A/N: This first scene has a switching POV from Minerva to Harry. It felt a little weird writing it like that, but it's the way I felt would best show everything from all angles.

Also, there are a surprisingly tiny amount of Muggleborn students in Harry's class. I stopped searching when I got to six and even then, I could only find two that were confirmed Muggleborns while the others were in a maybe status

Italics: Sora

Underline: Ventus

Published: 10/12/2017

Warnings: None for this one either. Pretty calm chapter

Chapter 6

Alley of Wonders

After his Aunt had been suitably calmed. She had excused herself calmly, obviously attempting to maintain at least some semblance of dignity. With one last distasteful look at Professor McGonagall, she left Harry and the teacher alone in the living room as she wandered off to do other tasks.

McGonagall watched her departure with no lack of repulsion.

Apparently, Harry realized, this woman liked his Aunt with just the same amount of tender care as his Aunt felt for her.

Briefly, he wondered if this is what I'd would be like to be in the presence of Cloud Strife and Sephiroth. A loud snort from his mind echoed in Harry's head before he shook the idea off.

He supposed that comparison might be stretching it a little. After all, his Aunt and his future teacher hadn't leveled all of London in testosterone- eh… Estrogen fueled match, after all.

With one last look pensive look, the teacher turned back to Harry.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began, producing a letter from inside that ridiculous cloak she was wearing, "I see you have some questions, correct?"

Harry smiled up at her. Minerva silently wondered if Harry had a mode other than happy mode. She supposed it could have been worse. It surprised her, really, how cheerful the boy was considering what kind of upbringing he must have had. Then again, considering how Petunia had defended the boy earlier, Minerva wondered if she had been too quick to judge. Perhaps Albus had been right after all. If only she knew...

In another timeline, Dumbledore was forced to obliviate his Deputy Headmistress after she had stormed into his office, letter in hand, screaming about how the Quill had addressed Harry Potter's place of residence as 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs'.

Then, Harry began.

"Do we get brooms? Do we get to fly? Are there fairies that sprinkle pixie dust on us so we can fly without brooms? Do you guys have magic food that makes you all big and then makes you all tiny? Are genies real? Do you guys have a genie? What kinda magic do you guys teach, where am I suppose to get all that cool stuff on the list and- oh, sorry. Am I talking too fast?" Harry's babbling came to an abrupt halt as he shot her an apologetic look. Apparently, he had been chastised in the past, Minerva realized, for asking too many questions at once.

Another Hermione Granger. Dear Merlin, there were two of them. Minerva had actually decided to fit Harry in between her rounds of alerting the Muggleborn students and had just gotten back from the Granger residence when she had come here. Little Hermione had been much the same, although her questions had more been focused on the classes they would attend and how magic was different then reality and how it all worked.

Harry, however, didn't seem to have a problem understanding whether magic was real or not. No, his curiosity was a different sort. Miss Granger had wanted to understand magic. Harry appeared to have no interest in understanding. Instead, he wanted to know all the wonders, twists, and turns that magic provided.

Years of teaching like minded students, however, had given Minerva powerful memory recollection, despite her age.

"There is a flying course at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. Flight outside of said course is strictly prohibited for the safety of students. The Fae, at times, have visited Hogwarts but to the best of my knowledge, they have never given anyone the ability of flight through the use of… Pixie dust." Minerva repeated. Pixie dust? Where in Merlin was Harry getting these ideas? "There are magical potions that do affect the body, but not to the degree of which you speak of. As for genies, yes Mr. Potter, they are very real and you'd do well to avoid them. They're tricky, fickle creatures at best. As for what we teach at Hogwarts," with a quick wave of her wand, all the furniture in the room began to float.

Harry's eyes lit.

"Wicked." he stated in wonder.

"I told you! They're gonna make him hit flying furniture with elemental magic!"

"No biggie. Harry's a better learner than you since he does, after all, have a brain. He'll graduate out of that phase pretty quick."

"I suppose… Hey!

Professor McGonagall let the furniture drop.

"There are many magical subjects which Hogwarts offers. The core subjects are Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. We do, of course, also offer many other electives such as Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and several other magical studies." Professor McGonagall explained. Then, to her surprise, Harry frowned. "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up at her.

"Ah no. Actually, maybe." Harry began, scratching the back of his head.

Harry Potter, don't you dare young man.

Harry froze. He had been about to ask if they also taught the combat magics Harry had begun to learn from his two dads at Hogwarts but he had a distinct feeling that if he did Papa would ground him for a month.

"It's nothing, Professor. I was just… Wondering how I'm suppose to pay for it all, actually." Harry amended.

The Professor's face softened. Harry very narrowly resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief. She bought it.

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter. All tuition has already been paid for."

The arguing in the back of Harry's head stopped. Harry suddenly had a mental image of Papa and Daddy scrunched up against a door, their ears pressed against the wood as they eavesdropped.

"By who?"

"Your parents, of course." Professor McGonagall answered, before producing something else out of that seemingly infinitely large cloak of hers.

Ha! You should have seen the pockets those Fairies made for me! I was literally walking around with hundreds of items in them!

If you knew how to use the Keyblade powers properly, you'd know that we can store items in a pocket dimension, just like how we can make our Keyblades go away when we don't need them.

So why don't you teach me, oh wise sensei-sama?

Ignoring the banther, Harry stared in wonder as his future Professor pressed a picture frame into his hands. Slowly, his fingers traced the faces of the two strangers before him.

He had never seen any pictures of his parents. Aunt Petunia didn't keep any in the house. Harry had once asked why and his Aunt's face had twisted in disgust before she had screeched at him to get back in his cupboard. Obviously, that had happened years ago but Harry wasn't willing to tempt fate now that things had finally turned around for him.

The voices went silent.

These people…

They had loved him...

They had died for him…

Harry loved Sora and he loved Ventus. But, he also loved the two in the picture frame. He didn't even know their names. All he knew was that they were both holding a small bundle in their arms which Harry realized must have been him.

Little tiny baby him.

A single tear collided against the glass, splattering across the visage.

Harry briefly recalled how his Aunt had taken him aside the year before and explained everything to him. Everything, to the best of her ability. Dudley hadn't been there. As far as Dudley knew, his cousin had special powers that made him different but he didn't know the extent of said powers.

He remembered his Aunt's words and he remembered what she had told him of his parents and of him.

For a moment, when Harry looked up, Minerva swore she wasn't looking at a child. Instead, she saw shades of James, shades of Lily, and shades of two others that she didn't recognize. For a moment, Harry Potter looked far older than any child has the right to be.

"Voldemort killed them."

Minerva flinched. She couldn't help it.

"Voldemort killed them, and he tried to kill me… But, he couldn't. He couldn't, and he gave me this, didn't he?" Harry raised a hand to his fringe and pulled back some of the hair, revealing a lightning bolt shaped scar.

Minerva frowned.

"It seems your Aunt has… Taken the liberty to inform you." Minerva stated diplomatically.

Harry nodded.

"She did. She didn't know much about Hogwarts, though." Harry replied. Then, he looked back to the picture, enraptured. "Can… Can I keep this?" he gazed back up at her, eyes hopeful.

Minerva couldn't deny him. With a nod, she allowed it. Harry beamed at her in response, the serious mood all but forgotten.

Harry's first impression of Diagon Alley was that this place was way cooler than Disney World.

Daddy grumbled in the back of his head, muttering about how Harry wouldn't say such blasphemy if he had actually visited the worlds Disney Land had been built to emulate.

Taking it all in, Harry looked around in wonder. All the shops. All the magic. Closing his eyes, Harry realized he could feel it. He could feel the magic of this place, and it tingled. Giggling slightly, Harry opened his eyes.

And was met with the arched eyebrow of Hermione Granger.

"What was that about?"

"Can't you guys feel the magic in the air?" Harry responded. The other Muggleborn students frowned before imitation Harry. Hermione followed last, slightly skeptical before her eyes to opened in wonder.

"Amazing."

It didn't come from her, though. It came from Justin Finch-Fletchy, one of the other boys on the trip.

Professor McGonagall smiled at them.

"The first time is always marvelous, is it not? Come, this way, all of you." she beckoned them.

Hermione followed directly behind the Professor, holding the older woman's hand. Harry, in turn, held Hermione's while a dark skinned boy named Dean Thomas held his. Professor McGonagall had stressed the point that there being so many of them, they needed to stick together in order to make sure no one was lost.

All in all, she was chaperoning half a dozen of them. Harry himself, Hermione, Justin, Dean, Lily Moon, and Kevin Entwhistle.

None of their parents had been allowed to come. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have come anyways, but some of the other parents had been slightly leery of letting their children go. Still, pleasing faces had succeeded as Professor McGonagall led them through the Wizarding commerce center.

From what Harry understood, it was apparently a long standing tradition that upon a student's first visit to Diagon Alley, they either were accompanied by a teacher or by their magical guardians. Muggles could be granted access, but the amount of paperwork involved made it practically impossible for them to go with first time students. Harry personally thought it was a dumb rule, but he didn't make it. Suddenly, a surge of magic caught his attention.

Harry's head snapped to the right, catching view of an unnaturally dark alleyway. Harry blinked. It was the middle of the day. Why did that road look all dreary and dark? Was there some sort of spell cast on it to make it start drawing away the sunlight or something?

We should explore that later.

We should not explore that later! Harry could get hurt!

When Harry is older, I meant. Duh. Get with the times, Venny.

Harry felt more than heard Papa tackle Daddy. Again.

"First stop, Gringotts Bank." Professor Minerva led them to a tall imposing building made out of marble. Harry and the other children starred up. Before Harry had time to read the sign, Professor McGonagall made an abrupt stop before turning to face them all.

"Now, children, this bank is run by… Creatures different than you are accustomed to." The Professor began.

"I know dad says bankers are evil, but is it really okay to call them creatures?" Dean spoke.

Ignoring the laughs, Professor McGonagall looked at him sternly.

"This is no joke, Mr. Thomas. Gringotts is a pristine Wizarding bank and it handles all the monetary affairs of Great Britain," Harry heard Papa mutter about how that was such a stupid idea to do before he focused in on the Professor again, "and it is run by a fierce, honor bound species. The bank is run by Goblins," Professor McGonagall revealed much to the shock of the students, "and they are ferocious beings. I would ask that you all stay calm and respectful during your visit." Minerva concluded.

Harry tilted his head.

"I wonder if they're anything like Moogles?"

"What is a Moggle?" Hermione asked.

"They're these really adorable floaty guys that sell stuff and set up shops everywhere." Harry informed her.

Minerva frowned slightly as the conversation turned to random mythical creatures Potter began to describe. It seemed the boy did have an overactive imagination.

Still, she would keep an eye on him. That moment with the voices didn't sit well with her. She wondered for a moment if she should inform Albus before thinking better of it. Until she was sure, there was no point in putting Mr. Potter under such scrutiny. She could just imagine the look on Severus' face as he decided to poke and prod and see why the Boy Who Lived happened to speak to people only he could hear.

With those words, she spun and led the children inside. As expected, they quieted down and began to look about the bank, eyes taking it all in.

It was always the same with Muggleborns, year after year after year. Minerva wasn't quite sure she would ever get tired of seeing that initial look of awe on their little faces. It was one of the few things that made being a teacher worth it, despite having to put up with chaotic pranksters every few decades.

Elsewhere, the remaining Marauders gazed up and the Weasley twins, sleeping in, twisted in their beds and sneezed.

Making her way forth, Minerva found a teller. Striding to him, the children following behind, Minerva met the Goblin's gaze head on.

"Name?" the Goblin, whose name Minerva could see was Ripjaw based on the nameplate before him, spoke.

"Minerva McGonagall here, with five of this years Muggle-raised students and Harry Potter."

Minerva watched as the Goblin's eyes darted across the children, before finally landing on Harry. Harry lifted a hand and attempted to futily flatten the hair across his forehead. Then, he smiled at the goblin.

"Hi! I'm Harry! Nice to meet you, Mr… Ripjaw, right?" Harry beamed, extending a hand out, not at all perturbed by the Goblin's appearance as the others in the group seemed to be.

Ripjaw blinked.

"Likewise, Mr. Potter." the Goblin replied before tentatively shaking the hand before him, the look on his face indicating he was slightly surprised by the turn of events but going with it all the same. Then, Ripjaw turned to her.

"Keys?"

Minerva produced the two before setting them down.

"The golden one is for the Potter Vault. The silver one is for the Hogwarts Vault. I trust all is in order?"

Examining both keys, the Goblin nodded before handing them back. Then, ringing a bell, Ripjaw turned away from them.

"Griphook!"

Another Goblin came towards them.

"Take our most honored guests down to the vaults! Hogwart's student fund and Potter vault!"

Griphook nodded before turning to them.

"This way," he spoke. Then, without another word, he spun and departed. Minerva followed behind, students trailing behind her.

Several wild rides later, the found themselves leaving the bank.

"Harry, mate, your parents were loaded!" Mr. Thomas exclaimed.

Harry shrugged.

"I guess."

Minerva frowned. There it was. Any mention of his parents, and Mr. Potter would shrink into himself. A look of longing would glisten in his eyes along with… If Minerva didn't know any better, she'd assume it was guilt, but for what did Mr. Potter have to feel guilty for?

Regardless, she led the students forth, intent on gathering the rest of their school supplies.

A/N: Thoughts? Responses? Suggestions? Criticisms? Feel free to leave a review :)